Wolf
by Truth Dawns in Fire
Summary: He was just a slave. There to work, to serve. That was his sole purpose. Until the fight, a duel to the death. Whoever won would win a grand prize and a boon and he would fight if only to set his mother free. The complete story of Fenris's life. In ending chapters FenrisxHawke pairing, only slightly AU, mainly because you don't know what happened to Fenris
1. Submitting

**Submitting**

Disclaimer-you know what I own and what I don't

Summary- He was just a slave. There to work, to serve. That was his sole purpose, until it was announced. There would be a fight, a duel to the death. Who ever won would win a grand prize and a boon and he would fight if only to set his mother free. The complete story of Fenris's life. In ending chapters FenrisxHawke pairing, story is planned to be lore friendly.

Also because I plan to take creative writing in school I wrote this as if you don't know anything about the world of dragon age, sort of explaining it all from my point of view

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Tevinter: with its sprawling plains and rolling hills; with its spiteful citizens and of course it's constant state of war with the grey beasts of a race, the Qunari. Were blood magic means power, and if you aren't powerful, you are squashed like a bug under a boot, left in the dust to die. Blood magic as in the art of using another's life or your own to create magical power that in its self may not be such a hideous crime. The real crime is in the demons that are summoned, and the chance that they may possess the mage that summon them, thus rendering them an "Abomination." Any spark of kindness or even pity is snuffed out by the cold gaze of the Magisters. To anger a Magister is death. Sure the Chantry, the church, says that blood magic is illegal, but who controls the law? It's certainly not the Chantry.

Then of course there are the slaves. Every mage has to have a slave, if you don't your considered weak, unfit to rule your holdings. The slaves submitted to all kinds of pain and labor. If you're lucky you're considered a pet to be played with, for experiments and other obscene things. If not, well you don't exactly have to worry about your well-being any more now do you. There is little difference in Seheron, the large island to the north of Tevinter, across the Nocen sea. There is still blood magic, cruel Magisters, slaves and all friendliness is just an attempt to raise one's own status.

Magister Relith of Seheron was of course, no different. Relith was a large man who was perhaps not as widely known or feared as the other Magisters but that did not lessen his ambition. His apprentice Ahriman who was his successor was no different, in fact it was not uncommon for apprentices to learn as much as they could and then merely challenge their masters to a duel to gain all of their property and titles. As Relith's apprentice he learned magic, or really blood magic, gained a foundation for a higher standing and oversaw Magister Relith's slaves. It is one such night that our story begins, with Magister Ahriman "overseeing" the slaves.

"Keep your little urchins away from my chambers! I do not need their knife ear stench filling my study! Else I shall convince Magister Relith to sell them both! That girl of yours will fetch a nice price. Though the male is awesully skinny, I'm sure I could find someone willing to buy a young elven boy!" shouted the master, angry yet again about a failed experiment. The elf nodded her head not speaking a word, she had not been granted permission to speak and so would not. "Do you understand slave?" roared the master the threat in his voice still ringing. The elf nodded her head violently, shaking in fear, her blue eyes sparked with the emotion. "Useless!" snapped the master shoving the slave to the ground with a pulse of magic; he would not lower himself to touch her, _unclean, _being.

The elf crawled away into the bushes and waited for night to fall, she does not whine or cry, the master does not permit weakness. She sits straight; the master does not allow slouching as it ruins the capabilities of the slaves as they age and _The master must be obeyed_. Entering the single roomed shack that was her home her eyes were drawn to the prone forms of two young elves. The younger, perhaps 14 looked very much like her mother. With beautiful glossy red hair and sparkling blue eyes, a lithe frame and pale clear skin. But despite her beauty she would never suffer the wounds and abuse of her mother. Slaves that showed magic were treated with…not with care exactly but they held more value. It would be unprofitable to harm them, at least unprofitable to harm them permanently. That was how the mages viewed it at least. The red haired elf's blue eyes settled on the accusing green eyes of the elven boy. Three years older than his sister he was old enough that he would no longer be able to slip under the radar of the slave master. "Leto." His mother whispered listening for his words, for reassurance that he had not been sold and this was not but a dream.

"We should leave," said Leto his black hair shading his face, his voice was pleading. _That's wrong; no weakness, it displeases the master. The master must be obeyed._

"Do not speak such words! Why would we want to leave? We have everything we need. Food, water, and even shelter. I do not understand why you want to leave. There is nothing else, Leto, only the master." Said his mother her eyes clouded in confusion.

"How do you know? We should find out," cried the boy leaping to his feet, "I dream of a time were you will not be hurt nor threatened with Varania being sold!"

"Oh Leto," she said his name in a tone that implied she thought this notion daft, she believed that his time among the field carefree had put silly notions in his head about freedom and rights. "I dream only of pleasing our master. We must please him. _The master must be obeyed. _Such talk is against the rules. We wish only the will of our master and the kindness he shows if we please him. Any punishment is our fault, any pain, deserved. All happiness is a gift from our master and he has the right to take it from us for it is not ours in the first place." Said Leto's mother calmly.

Leto hesitates, these word had been spoken to him from birth, how could he not believe them? But deep down he could not let go of the fierce feeling that plagued him. He had no name for it, the feeling. In Tevinter, or any were, slaves were not taught, they had to watch and listen to learn. It sat in his stomach like the red speckled rocks of the river sat, heavy and thick, no ability to leave, to float. He felt that…that…_The master must be obeyed_ of course but should he not… his thoughts trailed off into the void, he could not remember why he had been upset. It was true, the master was absolute.

Leto watched as he always did as his mother fell into the bliss of sleep. This was the job that he took the most care in, watching over them, protecting them. No harm would come to his mother or sister while he stood alive. This he swore even as he swore service to his master. He felt certain of it, there was a way to free his family he had to only be patient. So he would wait, he would find this way and he would free them even if it cost him his life, even if he wouldn't be alive to see them free. He was of age now and he would no longer hold on to the illusions of childhood. No there would be no illusions, only action.


	2. Questioning

**Questioning**

Chapter 2

Varania was taken to lessons. She was to be taught magic to entertain the master. I of course had no talent for the accursed magic; magic was a thing for the evil. So instead I was put to work; normally elves were not up for close combat but I had a talent for fighting with a sword, mostly due to the fact that elves had increased flexibility and reflexes. Once I was trained to fight I was assigned a job that had me watching the other slave's children work. I myself had not gone through the grueling hours of work that the new children went through. But that was due to the fact that the old master had killed himself doing some blood magic ritual, power never paid. Magister Ahriman was crueler and his hours longer. The slaves didn't complain, that would have been most unwise of them. I was not exactly so wholly complacent.

As I paced down the aisle watching the children clean various things my sensitive ears picked up a small sniffle. I turned to reprimand the crook, weakness was not permitted and it was better for me to catch them than one of the human guards. But my eyes landed on a small girl, her hair red as blood and her pale green eyes poling with tears. She looked so much like Varania, and like his mother. The child was bleeding from a cut on her hand but that was not what seemed to bother her. What bothered her to the point of tears was that as she scrubbed the plates she had been assigned they kept dirtying with her own blood. The sight stunned me for a second, when Varania had been that age she had not been so…he had not the word to describe it, perhaps meek? Varania fought for what she wanted and she like me was not one to submit. I squatted down, rocking on my heels and the girl's eyes shot up into my own green eyes, so heart wrenchingly pleading. Something deep within me felt compelled to help. Part of my mind, the part that wanted me to live longer, whispered that it was against the rules. "It's ok, I'll help you." I soothed gently taking the rag from her. The look of gratefulness that spread across her face melted my heart. So I helped the small girl scrub her plates but as they were almost finished the door to the cleaning hall banged open. Standing there was the overseer.

I looked up into the human's face. He glared down at me in rage. I jumped up my pants wet from the dish soap. The girl, Areile, gave a whine of utter fear and scampered away. "Well well well. What have we here? Helping that little knife ear with her duties were you?" the overseer laughed. One of the guards lunged for the girl but I pushed him away landing a solid punch to his jaw line. He looked startled and he pulled his sword. Probably not my brightest idea but I could not stand to let them harm the innocent girl. The man lunged forward with a fatal blow and I dodged out of the way. I grabbed his arm and twisted the blade out of his hand holding in to his neck line. "Halt!" said the man and I froze. I still had to listen to my masters. The guard smiled cruelly and grabbed my arm.

A flare of panic raced through me as he dragged me outside and tied me to the whipping post. The binds dug into my already raw wrists. This was not the first time I had felt sorry for a fellow slave and attempted to help only to be whipped. I however felt compelled to try and make their lives better. My shirt was removed for maximum access to my skin. I winced as a bucket of water was thrown on me. This would be my most painful lashing yet it appeared. Still a part of me still wanted to raise my chin and stare defiantly at the overseer. I did I twisted my head to glare directly into his eyes. It was not allowed but the rules lay forgotten in my mind. Squaring my shoulders I braced myself the whole while looking as defiant as ever. I may have felt ashamed that I was disobeying and disappointing my master but the look of gratefulness that crossed the little girls face was now burned into his mind. "How many this time?" asked the man who was assigned to do the whipping. "This is his fourth violation; last one was until he was just about to pass out. Take this one all the way; I want the boy covered in that filthy blood of his! Kill him if that's what it takes." The whipper gave me a side long grin. Oh how he loved his job. I had no doubt that I was about to be killed.

But apparently my death would have ruined any future fun. Walking back into the dinky shack I called home my mother stood rushing over to me. "How could you Leto? Soon enough the master will sell you for all your trouble!"

I looked my mother in her eyes and said "If that happens I promise that I will come back and free you mother, I swear it! One day, no matter what it takes, you will be free! "My sister walked in right then and frowned at the blood stain on my shirt. "Leto, I've learned a healing spell! Let me try!" she said excitedly, she was so innocent so kind, so unlike the Magisters that it was hard to believe they had anything in common. I hesitated but reluctantly agree to let her heal me, after all she was my sister, even if I did doubt how well her magic would work. Her hands glowed with an unnatural light as her fingers rubbed over each wound, it was not pleasant, it hurt as she was not as careful as she should have been. I however could not bring myself to tell my little sister of this. "There! Look there's not even any scars!" she said proudly. I twisted to look at my back but unfortunately we didn't have a mirror. So I settled with bending over to find that no pain lanced my spinal area. "Thank you Varania." I said smiling at my sister.

"Of course Leto! Remember when we fell into the river and you had to pull me out?"

"You had that cut on your arm." I said fondly remembering pulling my baby sister from the river. We had been trying to catch brightly colored fish that swam in the warm clear waters.

"And you bandaged it." Varania finished. "Why were you whipped this time?" she inquired

"I, ah, well there was this slave girl and she was bleeding, I helped her with her job."

"You are too nice, there is no place for kindness here!" said Varania and I flinched, that sounded like something a Magister would say. I however could not understand how she could say that, had she not shown me kindness by healing my wounds? But then again, if I disappeared who would protect her from the other slave men that wished horrible things upon my young sister.

I ran a hand through my shaggy black hair and sighed, of course I knew how it worked but how was I supposed to just sit by and not help? As long as the job was done why did it matter how? Perhaps my mother was too weak minded to stand up for herself, but I was not. That feeling, the one that sat like a rock, it was need, for freedom. The feeling it burned in my stomach with the determination of a mage's fire, shortened my breath, gave unyielding energy to my legs and made my arms tense. It consumed my mind and its cry was at the tip of my tongue as it exploded in my chest grasping and bright. How could I abandon it? Nothing would ever take that away from me, not ever. It was something that would never fade, only fester. This was my passion and this was my life.


	3. Standing

**Chapter 3 is up, I live off of follows and reviews just so you know…**

**Scribbledinhaste-I fixed chapter 2 so that it is first person, I also added a few descriptions but no changes to events of course**

**3 Fenris- *laughs* it was sort of the point to be just a little depressing**

**Dragonview- I didn't know you read Dragon Age but go figure, tx for the review**

**Standing**

Chapter 3

I was going to keep my promise to my mother, no matter what. I had been outfitted with leather armor and a sword. Pitted against several other slaves, but I wanted this, needed it. If I won, killed the others, Magister Danarius would set my family free. They would be hired as servants by Magister Ahriman no doubt. All I had to do was kill the other slaves and why would they want to continue living if it meant being a slave anyway? My opponent, a fellow elf with sun bleached hair and wild brown eyes, was equipped with twin short blades, both covered in blood. Only moments before I had watched the elf take out a Qunari slave by sneaking up behind and then jumping up twisting and plunging a dagger into his skull.

He shot toward my left side but I saw his eyes flick to my right and switched my guard to cover my right flank. My assailant received a solid slash across the front of his cuirass for his trouble. I narrowed my eyes not pausing in my attack. For every step back he took I stepped forward. Finally his guard wavered, I did not hesitate, plunging my sword into his stomach I twisted it as I drew it out and his body slumped lifeless to the ground. He was probably the least threatening of all the attackers and should not have lasted as long as he had. But he had been quick and had stuck to the shadows; in short, he was a coward, a dirty rogue. Turning my attention fully back to the fray I spotted three humans left, an elf, and four Qunari. It was clear by the way the Qunari fought that they had been captured and then made slaves. They had probably been Tal-Vashoth at one point as their horns had been removed forcefully as was the custom. The Qunari believed that being hornless was a sign of greatness; as a result the ones born without rose quickly to power and Tal-Vashoth removed theirs to appear frightening. It seemed rather backwards to me. As I watched one of the humans fall to the club of a Qunari just as another human cut him down. Six left.

One of the Qunari lunged toward me and I rolled quickly out of the way. Stabbing up at his side my sword merely clanged off of the metal waist guard he wore. Frustrated I cursed "Venhedis!"

"Kabethari!" growled the Qunari. I vaguely remember one of Ahriman's Qunari slaves saying that it meant "Simple one." Living in Seheron you learned a little bit of Qunari. Growling I lunged forward and this time I used the approach of the fallen elf I had killed. Rolling across the ground I sprang up behind and gave a solid kick to his back causing him to stumble forward. Swinging my sword like a scythe it buried itself in his back. Unfortunately it stuck there and I had to lung out of the way as I realized that there was only myself and a human left. She snarled at me swinging her sword. Backpedaling I stumbled over the Qunari's great sword and an idea popped into my head. Gripping the great sword in one hand I dragged it back toward the elf I had killed as the human stalked toward me. She lunged and I found myself crouched as I sent a swiveling kick to the back of her ankles, knocking her off her feet.

I moved forward to end it all but she rolled out of the way jumping up, we circled each other until she rushed forward. Our swords met in a dead lock before we both pushed off sprinting away. As we clashed together again I bashed my sword handle into her face stunning her briefly. Taking advantage of the moment I rushed her. Attempting to land a death blow. But as I approached she recovered and grabbed my leather vestments. She twisted my arm in a way that made my hand shake and my sword clattered to the ground. It appeared that I had lost.

They say that before your death your life flashes before your eyes. They also say that death is just a journey. I did not find that to be exactly true. How would death be a jorney? If your dead then that is it, gone, non existent, faded into nothingness. For they teach the slaves that the afterlife is only for thoughs Andraste wishes to ascend, the powerful. Although I did get a sense of what was meant by my life flashing before my eyes. I felt sorrow that my life would not continue and I briefly recalled laughing with my sister about something and I pictured my mother crying over my death. But I would not have said that that was my life, I would instead say that what was a central part of me was summoned up for me to draw strength from. An idea so ridiculous it was brilliant and stupid at the same time. Yet it was my only chance and the only thing to cross my mind.

I kicked her shin, there was no cunning plan or snarky remark or show of great strength, I kicked her; and she cried out in surprise, disbelief at such a common move being used. My hand slipped into her hair and I brought her head down hard onto my knee. She pulled away and glared at me accusingly blood rolling down her face. But I was of the opinion that in a life or death situation there is no such thing as _fair. _ I reached out and ripped my sword free of the dirt that had sprayed across it. A grim look crossed my face and my eyes hardened, in this moment I was hard and unyielding. A warrior of incredible strength and power. Cold hearted, I glared my face a blank mask no pity or remorse, I was no longer Leto, I was someone else, someone without a name. Sharply and swiftly I drew the longsword across her neck. Pulling it out the droplets of blood sprayed into the air and I watched them spin down to the ground and sparkle in the mid-day sunlight. For several moments I just stood there gasping for breath, covered in blood. _I had won. _


	4. Nameless

**This is a dark chapter and it's only the start…I wanted it to be darker to…**

I waited in a cold room, the walls were cold, the floors, the air itself seemed to be freezing my blood as I breathed in. On my wishes Danarius had freed my family, I hadn't got to say good bye. I had been partially dragged partially shoved into this room and thrown down into a pile of straw, the only fixture in the room. I was imprisoned and I did not understand why. I knew that I was now nothing more than something to be tested with, for experiments. I was not that warrior that I had been in the ring; I was but a slave once more, I was Leto. I lost track of the hours I waited, maybe it was only minuets but I was brought food and water. But what held me the most was the light, I had not realized how dark it was until the blessed sunlight came in. Like fire on the icy walls it burned away the cold within minutes.

The servant who brought me food was just a boy, perhaps only ten or so. He was lean as it he had not had a decent meal in quite a while. I frowned at the food; there was fish and bread, a disgusting mixture, no doubt leftovers of some kind. I handed the boy my bread and he looked at me in shock, it was like he feared that this was some cruel trick meant to hurt him, "For you, you look hungry." I said placing one of his hands on the half. He nodded and scampered away with his prize as if I might laugh at him and snatch it back. It dawned on me that Danarius was not kind to his slaves, and by kind I meant tolerant, it looked as if they were starved and by the fear in the boys eyes, were often beaten to death. Ahriman was not such a powerful magister to afford replacing so many slaves but Danarius, Danarius was powerful, wealthy and had the "persuasiveness" required keeping a high standing. As in he bullied everyone under threat of death. Little id I know that this small act of kindness would be my last one for many a year.

Almost as soon as I finished the fish a new person entered my now cold cell. Without a single word he shoved me to my feet and dragged me down many many flights of stairs. We finally arrived in a large chamber, my first clue that I was done for? Several strange beings were present and I knew not what to call them if not demons. The one closes to me had purplish skin and fire for hair. She, at least in her state of undress she looked like a she, floated above the ground a twitching tail behind her. Twisting yet elegant horns spiraled from her hair. Hers were different than the others, the other's their horns twisted out to the sides. But this demon's curved back like a Qunari's elegantly swerving down her neck. Her movements were almost feline and she had the claws to match. They glistened from her fingers and curved delicately forward but only slightly. I found myself staring but the longer I stared the more she seemed to change as if I was seeing an illusion. I had heard once that everyone sees a desire demon differently and never their true appearance if their attention is focused toward you.

"Ah Leto, there you are we have been waiting." Said the Master steel grey eyes looking at me as one might look at a new picture or pair of shoes. "I hate waiting."

"Mmmh, you have chosen well my Lord, this one possesses a great spirit." Said the Demon and as she faced me I thought she bore a strange resemblance to my mother.

"Unclothe yourself." he ordered going back to study something he held in his hand. I was startled to say the least as this had never been asked of me, Denarius frowned a little and I remembered "I hate waiting" I stripped down to my underclothes and I shot Denarius a quizzical look, I could not ask as I had not been given permission to speak.

"Yes that to, come Leto, lay on the table." Ordered Denarius his eyes running over me as if trying to calculate my usefulness.

I did as I was told and some of my fellow slaves strapped me down with thick leather straps. They were uncomfortable wrapped around my wrists, ankles, chest and head; digging in and I twisted a little. "It would be preferable if you relaxed, it will go quicker, less power and less pain." Danarius said but his voice was emotionless, and I knew his only care was for his own energy and was merely trying to give me an incentive. I noticed that there were barrels of some sort of powder that glowed softly with blue light. Blood magic, not surprising, but my chances of survival just when down. I figured that I was a blood sacrifice but that didn't add up. Why have me strip and tied down? No matter I had sworn that no matter what it took I would free my family, even if it meant that they were on their own now.

Danarius reached and placed a hand on my chin. There was chanting and then, magic.

It was like fire in every vein of my body, burning and boiling. My eyes saw nothing, or perhaps they did but my mind could not handle it. I heard nothing but the sound of my own screams and that didn't last. I could not comprehend how long it took before my voice left me, my lungs felt like they were being squeezed by ribs, no squeezed was to calm a word, they were being clutched and it felt as if at any moment they would explode. The only thought in my head was escape, run, fight, live. There was the snapping and I don't think I even knew that it was my own bones, my wrists breaking through the straps. The straps were magically placed around my wrists again and I suddenly realized that I had been paralyzed.

Anger, hate and fear. All else was banished from my mind as I grasped for something to grab onto. I was slipping in the pain. But it was more than that, more that physical pain. The demons were in my mind, ripping away my memories leaving nothing for me to grasp onto. Their tendrils of magic grasping like a baby, whatever they touched became theirs in their lust for knowledge. Mages did this, demons, apostates and magic, magic and demons, Magisters and demons, Blood mages and apostates. I grasped onto that remembered that, my mind curled around that and repulsed all else. I sacrificed all other memories for my vengeance and pain. I waited, ever patient, for death for the increasing pain to just stop and leave me. But it didn't, it lingered and even as it killed me it gave me power.

Then I was in some room, I couldn't recall if I had ever been in it. It was stone with only a large door and a pile of straw. But I could see fine, I was glowing, markings on my body glowing with a blue light, so bright it hurt, why did that shade of blue make me so mad? Lyrium, it was the same as Lyrium, they were lyrium. It was hot, burning everywhere, I could not escape it. I tried to stand but my body refused to respond. I…I didn't know how. I couldn't speak, I knew the words but they would not leave my mouth. I could only move my head, then darkness, sweet darkness; nothingness came to take the pain away. How wrong I was, I dreamed only of mages, blood and demons. Of pain, I must overcome it and make it my strength. Of anger, let it fuel me and drive my thoughts. Of fear, let it lay hidden and festering, it holds no place inside of me. I am nothing but a scared vessel, no memories, no abilities, no name. That hit me most, I am nameless. Whatever I was before is no more, your memories make you who you are, the body, the voice, the smell thoughs are all nothing, your memories are you soul and therefor I am nothing, I am broken and I am bleeding.


	5. Winnerless

**Alas I have no excuse for my ridiculously long absence, a whole month! This however is my first week back in school, yeah! So back to my wonderful Fenris story that must be written or I'll explode! More description of Tevinter and a special event that is extremely important. Keep in mind that this is Fenris informing you of these things so parts may be untrue. Writing this I could almost imagine Fenris speaking these words.**

**Scribbledinhaste- hold on there is a lot of monologue here; keep in mind that Fenris is not allowed to speak and sadly since I was in such a good mood when I wrote this in won't get dark till the end**

There was a new Magister, a girl. She had brown hair and brown eyes, a rounded face and expensive makeup. She wore rich silks and her staff had intricate carvings woven into it. But that's where the beauty ended. She would have my meals thrown at me; have me beaten for the most ridiculous reasons. "It's breathing too loudly, ten lashes." Or "It sighed, fifteen lashes" and my personal favorite "It's alive, twenty-five lashes." I was always "it" not that there was anything else to call me. For I have no name, only the burning memory of pain. At first it was unbearable and I had forgotten even the simplest things such as how to move. But after the pain receded I remembered. I patiently waited for the other things to come but they would not.

Whoever I had been, whatever my beliefs, they were gone. Danarius had probably gotten me from some pile of filth or maybe he had actually bought me. It did not matter; my duty was his wishes and his protection. It was my existence and soul reason for living, all I needed to know. When my master called me to his side, I immediately knew that something was wrong. I was always to follow, never to speak, or be heard and certainly not to be seen. I walked stiffly over to his side, still respectfully behind him. "One of my more powerful competitors wishes a tourney, a contest of skill at arms, for our servants. You will be sent and you will win. Failure to do so is death and I have invested far too much coin and energy on you for you to simply die. You will face several challenges, be watchful and you shall live." Danarius informed me. I said nothing as I was not allowed to, I merely accepted the information and moved back to my place.

The competition was not to be held in the capitol as what would have been convenient; instead we journeyed to the city of Asariel. It too was set alongside the Nocen sea though it was quite a ride away from the imperial highway if you traveled by land. Though not nearly as large as Minrathous it was just as loud, especially the market. The market was a semi-circular building, three stories high, above was a large vaulted hall, resembling a basilica. The market consisted of shops, all of which faced on to a corridor allowing passersby to see the goods on sale. Items such as silks from Orlais, intricate carvings and stoneworks from Nevarra and fresh food from the jungles were being sold. There were restaurants emitting the smell that only the spices of Antiva could produce.

The structure of the building and the materials were the same. The city itself was made of the same white marble and mottled gray stone as was standard with the rest of Tevinter. When you have fire casting mages around it only makes sense that you would not have any structures of wood. So as a result the poor, mostly the Soporati class, lived in small, dark, filthy, crowded Apartments four to six stories high. They were often badly built, made of wood and therefore prone to collapse and fire. On the apartments there were no glass windows, only ragged curtains or flimsy wood shutters. As a result many of the poor had to fear being stolen from their homes at night and sold into slavery.

Tevinter was split up into three social classes; it was not as black and white as poor, middle, and rich. The Soporati class was all the people who showed no magical talent and never had. They can own property, serve in the army but they have no real power in matters of state, as a result they consist of farmers, merchants, cobblers, and everything else a city was dependent upon. The only way out of the lowest class is to give birth to a child "gifted" in magic.

The families who achieved magic in that way are known as the Laetans, the "rejoicing" class; it consists of families who had once never shown magical talent. Although many of the Archons, the rulers, came from this class. Still even if, magic had surfaced and stayed for generations one was stuck in that class unless one was lucky enough to secure a marriage with one of the Altus class. As with all things in Tevinter, it had to do with blood and magic.

The Altus mages were descendants of the Magisters of old, the dreamers, the ones who had invaded the maker's city and created the dark spawn if the chantry was to be believed. The Magisters had the ability to speak to the old gods in the fade. As a result their descendants are often quite powerful though there has not been a dreamer for several centuries. Once the dreamers were scorned, as their ancestors were the ones to create the blight. Many were hunted down and slain, however the church had once again allowed them to ascend to the top reaches.

When we arrived at the large manor of Denarius's competitor we were greeted by several slaves. All of them were Qunari, horns had been sharpened with files and their claws laced with some type of poison from Antiva. I did not stiffen my body nor did I ground my feet. If it came to a fight I would merely lunch forward with the power afforded by the lyrium that ran through my veins and rip their hearts from their chests. My green eyes shifted to a lean shape behind them, a Magister. She walked toward us calmly and to her credit she did not look the least bit startled by my appearance nor did she show any fear towards Danarius.

"Ah, here at lazt, My Lord," Said the women sweeping the sides of her brown dress aside in her small curtsy.

"I presume that you are Magister Karmela, from Orlais." Danarius said, he was obviously surprised by that particular fact. Understandable considering that the chantry is based out of Orlais.

She spoke with the accent as well "Well of course, I would not let zome zervent girl greet a fellow magister would I? That would be highly inappropriate. Well come to my home, zit is quite impressive iz it not?" she asked sweeping her arms in a gesture. Defiantly from Orlais, the sleeves of her dress dropped all the way down to the floor. In her hair there were ornate ribbons and other disgusting adornments. "Yes quite." Danarius said, civil as ever. "The zervent should be sent to ze barracks to prepare, we shall have lunch before the event."

Danarius narrowed his eyes as I was led from his sight; I walked stiffly into the marble hall that was the barracks. Glancing around I felt a tremor of alarm, it was not men I was to fight. There were creatures from all over Thedas. From Orzammar, a large bronto with dwarven metal protecting its flanks and a swarm of deep stalkers. My eyes widened a very small amount at the cage beside them, a wyvern, from Orlais. Poison dripped from its ugly maw as it turned seeing me it roared. It spread its wings as much as it could, thus blocking me from seeing what was in the cage next to it. "Eh! Shut up you great nug humping beast, meal times soon enough!" called a short fat man, a dwarf.

I stiffened and felt a small stirring in my veins; this was not going to be a fair fight. But then again it all made sense, the Magister might act the lady but she was feeding her guests before sitting them down to watch a slaughter. Picking out the weak ones to destroy, she also most likely meant to remove her completion of their most valued warriors. Typical Magister. "Eh? Who's bastard are you?" asked the dwarf and I frowned my brow knitting.

"Pardon?"

"Who's your boss you stupid knife ear!" Danarius had me kill men for lesser transgressions I thought ruefully.

"Magister Danarius." I replied swiftly.

"Ah good, we can start soon," grumbled the dwarf scatting at his backside "Go stand over by that gate with the rest of the doomed." I scoffed; I did not plan on dying. I surveyed the other men and some women, none of them looked that skilled. They would most likely be used as wyvern bait as I snuck in my blows.

There was excited chatting outside of the gate, the tourney was starting.

The gate burst open and we knowing what was soon to come after us, burst out of the room. The ground of the arena was thankfully firm and flat. The gray stone looked made to take considerable damage. Several large pillars held up steel chain netting, most likely for keeping the wyvern and drakes from flying away. I narrowed my eyes as the drakes swooped out of the doors, they looked around expectantly. They had done this before. I drew my greatsword and waited, unlike the foolish man who charged the Wyvern. The great beast clamped him in his mouth and squeezed. The man exploded from the pressure and rained blood and bodily organs everywhere. The Wyvern tilted its head back and with a process of flipping the corpse in the air, swallowed. It shook its head and looked pleased, my eyes wandered to the man's removed head and I frowned. The creature's hid was quite thick and I would likely not get a good hit on its flanks. I had to go for the chest, legs, or underneath.

The drakes were busy with some Qunari, one snapping an arm off and blood pouring out onto the ground. I could almost hear the retching noises coming from the sheltered alcove above, were the magister watched. The deep stalkers were spending their time gnawing on the remains of the man killed by the wyvern. The blood reminded me of the makeup Danarius's apprentice had worn. I focused on the bronto, while he was strong he was slow to turn. Eyeing a stone on the ground I picked it up and cast it over to the creatures head. It bellowed a fearsome sound, a roar that shook the ground. He lowered his head and charged.

I waited until it was a mere foot from me before dodging to the side, my feet stung with the impact of the leap. I sunk my blade into its hide and as it whipped around it flung me up into the air. I landed on its back.  
It reared in indignation. Shaking its hide like it might do to rid itself of flies; I hung on to his sides with my legs. It charged again, right into a marble wall. I jumped off right before impact rolling safely out of the way. As he hit the marble his horn imbedded itself into the stone and the Bronko proceeded to twisted with so much fury that it snapped its own neck. I pulled my sword from its dead carcass to meet the onslaught of the deepstalkers. I unleashed my rage, a lyrium blast sending them backwards and into the stone floor. They did not return to bother me. That left a few common forest animals and the wyvern. Some of the men had actually proven useful it taking down the drakes, surprising.

Blood and carnage surrounded everything; one could not walk without stepping on the body part of something, so every step I took made a squishing sound. So my advance on the wyvern did not go unnoticed. It turned its snarling face toward me and unleashed a torrent of green slime. I panicked at the unexpected change and my whole body lit up with the lyrium, it _passed through_ me. As soon as it passed I nearly dropped to the ground at the burning sensation in my skin. I felt as if I had perhaps been hit by the poison after all. Staggering forward I raised my sword in preparation; the wyvern flapped it great wings and rose into the air.

As it plunged I understood that there was no way for me to land a blow like this. It would merely keep lunging out of the way shooting slimy poison and I would dodge until I tired and could no longer. The chains above the arena. It was the only option and thus the only logical thing to do. I turned and ran towards the pillar that had been cracked by the wyvern. Strapping my sword to my back I climbed. The creature shot a blast of poison at me as I climbed but I again allowed it to phase through me. The lyrium brands were almost depleted by now and I knew that the next shot would be my last as I would not be able to phase again.

Reaching the chains I swung my body through the loops and arrived at the top of the netting. The Wyvern roared realizing that its prey was getting away. It turned its body vertical. With a great burst it shot directly upwards, before it was in danger of hitting the netting I knew it would turn away. I did not want it to. I slipped back through the chains and plummeted down toward its open mouth. I pushed my greatsword towards its head and watched as it ripped into the creatures flesh. It screamed in agony as it tried to spit fire at me it only succeeded in spewing its sticky red blood. It trailed down its face dripping in streams down its body. I watched it in disbelief as it spasmed until it lay still, curled in a fetal position.

My guard went down slightly until I heard the growl. I had forgotten that the wyvern was not the only thing left. I turned and came face to face with the largest wolf I had ever seen. It's shoulders passed my waist and its fur was spiked with blood. It looked as if it's fur was red, stained from blood, its eyes were green like the forest leaves. It bared its fangs at me, there to were coated in the blood of the fallen. I was left weaponless and defenseless against a creature of instinct.

It flew toward me, tackling me to the ground. I felt its fangs tear into my shoulder and I matched its snarl and howled my hate at the beast. I let my base instincts take over, one simple thing screaming through my blood, _fight. _Or I would surly die. I clamped my own mouth around its throat as hard as I could. The fur was too thick and my attempt in vain. So I turned to the only thing I had, the lyrium. I did not think I had enough energy, so I reached out and found some. I did not know how I drew more power into me only that it was one of the worst violations. I dove my hand into its chest and found its heart. It howled in pain, a noise that bothered me unlike the wyvern's had. Yanking it apart I stood above it as it died. My eyes locked onto it's as the gaping hole in its chest bled out. I watched as its green eyes dimmed and a sort of understanding passed through us. We were both slaves and and both of us had lost.

I heard one thing above the clamor of the Magisters, spoken from Danarius's mouth _"Fenris."_

**now I'm off to school...**


	6. Lifeless

**Aww your reviews, glad you appreciate the explanation for the reason Fenris is called Wolf, and yes the wolf's white fur green eyes was a reference to the face that Fenris has white hair and green eyes, now onwards! Did anyone notice my new Avatar yet, no more winged wolf, now it is a blazing wolf, I worked very hard on it! This chapter was harder to write, Fenris doesn't want to be free because he can even conceive of it, but at the same time he disagrees with all magic, that includes Danarius… it's so complex! **

Three weeks had passed since I defeated the wyvern. What burns and scrapes I had had healed, the lyrium helped with that. I had discovered that I could draw energy from it, were ever it maybe. Danarius had taken to calling me Little Fenris, he said I was as vicious and wild as the beast. Hadriana still just called me it and sometimes when her mood was particularly good, thing. I however did not care, names were...unimportant to ones role in life. My attention snapped back into the room as my master spoke to the cursed apprentice.

"Hadriana, fetch a slave for the ritual, one with life." Danarius ordered. I watched her incline her brown haired head in respect and turn to walk out the doorway, not before glaring at me of course. Danarius was preparing for some formal party; the attendees were his fellow Senators. Men and women, humans and elves, all blood mages of substantial power in both matters of state and magic.

Danarius had me pouring his wine for the guests. I unnerved them, another curse of my markings. One of the other slaves, a human boy, was being dragged into the cold but bright room and steered toward Danarius. "Ah, a fine choice Hadriana." Danarius said his voice cold as ice. I lowered my eyes and continued filling glasses; I did not wish to see his "spectacle."

"Now my fellow Senators, as we all know, blood has power. However, is it conceivable for some blood to hold more power than other specimens? I believe so, and so I have brought you an example." Danarius said leisurely, a thin smile twisting his lips. In one rapid gesture, he drew a shallow cut across the boy's throat. I watched, against my better judgment, the boy collapse his body convulsing; red blood poured from his light skin like crimson tears. His blue eyes were wide with fear and pain, as he twisted onto his stomach and I could not help but admire this ten year olds determination. He clasped a hand to his neck in a vain attempt to staunch the bleeding. The room had gone deathly silent except for the sickening sound of the boy's wet gasps, but it was not from mortification, but from interest. I myself was sickened by the sight, but I knew very well that this was the way of things, I could not interfere.

Danarius was fully aware of the command he now held over the group, raising his staff, he drew a dull red swirl over the boy. As more of the blood gushed out the swirl grew bright and brighter until it eclipsed even the brightest light shows on midsummer's eve. I shielded my eyes for a few moments until I noticed the light dim with the death of the boy. The Senators burst out in cheers and congratulations. Hadriana beamed as a few other apprentices groveled at her sides, telling her how lucky she was to have such a distinguished member of the Senate as her teacher. She flashed a smirk towards me, the meaning clear, _this will be you one day. _I narrowed my eyes keeping the rest of my face still, if this was my fate so be it, I would have no choice. I was a slave; it was what I was bred for. I did not meet Hadriana's eyes again, to do so would have been disrespectful. It may have mostly been due to the fact that the mere sight of her twisted my gut into a ball of anger.

I secretly wished that some colleague would act out, or challenge Danarius to a duel; in that event, I would be allowed to rip their beating heart from their chest. The warm blood would coat my incased hands and drip down upon my leather vestments. A sensation I had become familiar with in my short time with my master. He would often send me after opponents only to have me rip them apart, murder. I contemplated the boy's death for a few short seconds; overall, it was meaningless. It would fade from everyone's mind like morning dew in the Anderfels.

"Ah that is my little Fenris." I heard Danarius rumble to a fellow mage, setting his cold gray eyes upon me. They reminded me of the paintings I had seen of harsh blizzards.

"Rather robust for an elf. Must have cost a few gold," said the weasel of a magister next to him.

"The lyrium injections were a small fortune, but as you can see, a worthy investment."

The magister narrowed his eyes thoughtfully "Perhaps a demonstration is in order?" I watched Danarius frown; he obviously did not want anyone to succeed in replicating his experiment and did not wish to reveal to much information. I knew the look in his eyes, he made a sudden motion towards me and I swiftly dove my hand into the man's rib cage. I could feel the pulse of his heartbeat accelerate, the sweat that formed on his skin, the clenching of his muscles. I looked obediently towards my master waiting for the signal. Danarius was gazing around the room, it had gone as silent as before, everyone was wondering if I would pull my hand back just a little more and wrench the warm flesh from his body. I saw my master shake his head slightly and I clenched my hand, there would be no death, it would make for a bad party.

After a short speech on the exceptional courage of this magister, who had volunteered, I was told to release him. He lay gasping for breath, his eyes widened in panic and I could smell the strong stench of piss, my lip curled up slightly in disgust. He scurried off and I did not catch sight of him again. The rest of the houseguests avoided my presence after the incident, except for Hadriana. She greatly enjoyed ordering me to do pathetic tasks just to show her supposed "courage." I sneered at the very notion; I was certain that if I were ever pitted against her in battle, I would win. My lips curved slightly up, lessening my scowl as I thought of all the ways I could pleasantly dispatch of her. I was however, not certain if I wanted to put my hand into her fowl flesh. For what did magic touch that it did not taint? But nor did I want her to endure the quick death of the blade. Perhaps I would slowly drag a sword across her belly, placing pressure on the uncut areas, a slow and painful death, one Danarius had me execute before.

I imagined several other things as well. I saw her twitch in discomfort as I studied her. From her thin dusty hair and shallow brown eyes, to her twitching hands that sparkled with crimson energy. So, I thought, she was not totally immune to my appearance, she did fear me. I flexed my hands so that the steel of my gauntlets caught the light. She scowled and shot me a glare, her purpose now was to make me suffer, she wanted me dead. I knew she would have me beaten, starved, overworked. However, there was one thing I could thank Danarius for, I would not bow completely to anyone but him.


End file.
